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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29185401">In Black and White</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/opal_earrings/pseuds/opal_earrings'>opal_earrings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ink (Platonic Soulmate AU) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Divergence - Spider-Man: Homecoming, Canonical Character Death, Captivity, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Nightmares, Platonic Soulmates, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sick Peter Parker, Sorry Ben, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump, but its not too graphic, that would be ben again, tony and peter love each other very much</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:47:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29185401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/opal_earrings/pseuds/opal_earrings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Parker has always had a soulmate. For as long as he can remember, his family has consisted of his Aunt May, his Uncle Ben, and Tony, the man whose handwriting finds a home on Peter’s skin.</p><p>Tales of Peter growing up with his soulmate. Companion fic to Blood, Ink and Tears.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ink (Platonic Soulmate AU) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142672</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>236</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! This is very much not the follow-up fic I was planning on writing. This is more the self-indulgent result of me staying up until 5 am rereading my own fic and then decided that I just had to write more in this au because I missed it so much. The next half is already written, I just split this into two because I'm allergic to posting more than 10000 words at once. It'll be up soon!</p><p>If you haven't read Blood, Ink and Tears, this really isn't going to make much sense, so I'd recommend you read that first.</p><p>Before we start, a reminder that this is a platonic soulmate au and isn't meant to be interpreted romantically. But other than that, thank you very much for clicking on this fic, and happy reading! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Peter, 2007</strong>
</p><p>Peter Parker had always had a soulmate.</p><p>For as long as he could remember, his family had consisted of his Aunt May, his Uncle Ben, and Tony, the man whose handwriting found a home on Peter’s skin.</p><p>Tony wasn’t his family in the same way May and Ben were his family. He wasn’t even family like May’s brother and sister, who only came to visit once a year. Peter had never met Tony, not even once, but Ben said Tony was family because he was the only person in the whole world who was always with him no matter what.</p><p>Peter knew almost everything about Tony. He knew he liked to cook Italian food because it reminded him of his mom. He knew he liked to build machines so complicated Peter didn’t even understand their names. He knew he had a friend called Pepper who he always described as <em>very pretty</em>, but when Peter had asked if they were married Tony had got really embarrassed and said no.</p><p>But at the same time, Peter didn’t know a lot of basic things about Tony. He didn’t know what Tony’s last name was or where he lived or how old he was. He must be old, because he had a job and he often talked about grown-up things Peter didn’t understand. <em>How</em> old, however, Peter just didn’t know. The soulmate magic wouldn’t let him.</p><p>He didn’t even know what Tony looked like.</p><p>It didn’t matter, Peter decided. Who cared how old Tony was? Or what he looked like? Peter knew people tried to find out stuff like that because it helped you find your soulmate, but Peter wasn’t really in a rush to find Tony just yet. No-one Peter’s age had found their soulmates already.</p><p>Finding your soulmate was an old person thing. Peter would think about finding Tony once he was old. Really old. Like, fourteen. Maybe even fifteen.</p><p>For now, Peter was just happy to have Tony’s words on his skin, to have the man always there and available to talk to whenever Peter needed him. They were always talking to each other. Barely a few hours ever went by without a message from Tony appearing on Peter’s arm.</p><p>In fact, Peter was in trouble at school for how often he spoke to Tony. He wasn’t allowed to bring pens to class, not even for coloring in, because he was on the List of Shame. That wasn’t the official name. That was just what Ben had called it before May had smacked his arm and said, “We’re trying to discipline Peter. Don’t give the list a funny name!”</p><p>He just couldn’t help it. He loved talking to Tony, and he needed to tell Tony about <em>everything!</em></p><p>Sometimes when Peter told Ben or May about something, they were busy and didn’t listen or just didn’t really seem very interested. But Tony was always interested. He talked to Peter like an adult, too, and it made Peter feel important.</p><p>Plus, Tony knew <em>so much</em>. About everything. Especially science. Peter could ask him anything and he always knew the answer.</p><p>In short, Tony was Peter’s absolute favorite person to talk to, and the slight tickle as Tony’s scratchy, hard-to-read handwriting sank into his skin was the best feeling ever. Peter loved Tony, and Tony loved him, and that love was forever spelled out in black and white on Peter’s arms.</p><p>Peter couldn’t imagine his life without Tony’s ramblings on his skin.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Tony, 2010</strong>
</p><p>The icy air brought shivers to Tony’s skin as he huddled closer to the smoldering flames of their tiny forge. Wordlessly, Yinsen offered Tony a bowl of the disgusting slop they called food. Tony eyed it, nausea roiling in his stomach. He hadn’t yet grown accustomed to the taste of that stuff, to the way the food sat heavily on the fear and guilt and panic festering in his stomach. But Yinsen, who had, insisted it was better to eat.</p><p>Tony accepted the bowl with a weak attempt at a smile. He didn’t want to eat. All he wanted to do was rip that fucking car battery out of his chest and <em>scream</em>.</p><p>He couldn’t adjust to the inherent wrongness of his being here, to the constant tension in his muscles that wouldn’t let him relax for as long as he continued to be held captive—however long that might be. He was exhausted from the mental effort it took not to slip into despair. Insomnia haunted his night times, silent voices howling inside his mind that he didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to be here, <em>he didn’t want to be here</em>.</p><p>Even the air in the cave felt wrong. It was cold, and damp, and smelled of dirt and stone. He was slowly suffocating, and the heavy atmosphere didn’t allow him to forget for even one brief moment that he was trapped thousands of miles away from home.</p><p>He trusted that the United States military was looking for him. He didn’t doubt for one second that, on the other side of the world, the government was in shambles, panicking as they tried to handle the news that Tony Stark had been kidnapped by terrorists. The image might even have been funny if Tony weren’t suffering.</p><p>He was even willing to entertain the idea that somehow, somewhere, US intelligence would succeed at locating him.</p><p>He did not, however, trust that they would be able to rescue him.</p><p>Not in a terrorist camp, deep behind enemy lines. <em>He</em> wouldn’t have recommended rescuing him.</p><p>In these moments of despair, it was Yinsen’s calm demeanor that kept Tony tethered.</p><p>Yinsen had been here for longer than Tony, had had more time to adjust. It was his quiet acceptance of his fate and his matter-of-fact way of approaching their hellish conditions that helped Tony remain sane.</p><p>As Tony forced himself to swallow a mouthful of their disgusting breakfast, his arm tickled.</p><p>The lingering aftertaste of overcooked beans lost all flavor in his mouth.</p><p>As subtly as possible, Tony glanced over his shoulder where a camera blinked away in the darkness, then readjusted his position to keep his arm hidden. He set his bowl down with a glance in Yinsen’s direction and yanked his sleeve up as far as it would go.</p><p>
  <em>Hey, Tony! Can you talk yet? I really wanna tell you about what me and Ben did the other day!</em>
</p><p>Shit. <em>Shit</em>. As Tony’s life fell to pieces around him, not even Peter could quite bring him joy anymore. Every sad, scrawled message in Pete’s youthful handwriting was like a stone trapped in the mechanics of Tony’s mind, and he wasn’t sure how long it was before he buckled and broke under the pressure.</p><p>The tickling of Peter’s writing on his skin should be the highlight of his day, but as the kid’s messages slowly grew more and more upset the longer Tony didn’t respond, Tony had learned to dread the sensation.</p><p>His captors had provided him with only thin, brittle sticks of charcoal to write up his plans with. Which, despite Tony’s best efforts, didn’t sink in. As Yinsen had slept the first night after Tony had agreed to build the Jericho, Tony had sat awake, desperately dragging the charcoal across his skin, leaving only chalky black smudges in his wake.</p><p>“So,” said Yinsen, jerking Tony out of his thoughts. “Tony Stark does have a soulmate.”</p><p>As usual, Yinsen’s tone was soft, betraying no curiosity or surprise. Tony yanked his sleeve back over the writing. He didn’t want his captors seeing it. They had no right to Peter, not even to his words. Peter was safe, a constant reminder of home that Tony’s captors couldn’t take away from him.</p><p>Tony sniffed. “I wouldn’t have predicted it, either.”</p><p>He wanted to shut up, then—not because he didn’t trust Yinsen, but because he didn’t trust the walls around him, the camera in the corner, the peephole in their cell door—but he couldn’t. Maybe Peter could bring his warmth even to a freezing cave in Afghanistan.</p><p>“He’s—he’s good. Just a kid, but he’s—he’s already a better person than half of us could ever hope to be. Better than I’ll ever be, that’s for sure.” Tony brushed his thumb over the fabric of his sleeve, above the ink hidden there. “He doesn’t deserve this.”</p><p>Didn’t deserve to be left, abandoned, his soulmate gone without even a word of goodbye.</p><p>Yinsen’s eyes shone in the firelight. “No-one deserves that.”</p><p>Tony briefly glanced down at Yinsen’s arms, then quickly away. Was someone writing to him, too, wishing him home? Had he been pulling up his sleeves while Tony’s back was turned?</p><p>As the weeks wore on, Peter’s messages grew more and more forlorn, and further and further apart.</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry, Tony.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Did I make you angry? :(</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When can we talk again?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I hope you’re okay.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I miss you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>:(</em>
</p><p>With each message, Tony grew more determined that he would find a way out of this godforsaken cave.</p><p>And when finally, <em>finally</em>, Tony stepped foot on American soil once again, with Yinsen left thousands of miles away and at last with his family, he had little patience for the various people trying to get him strapped down on a stretcher.</p><p>“I don’t <em>have</em> to do anything. I’ve been in captivity for three months. There are three things I <em>want</em> to do. I want an American cheeseburger, and the second—is not what you think—I want you to call for a press conference. And third, Miss Potts, Hogan, if either of you have a pen on you, I will double both your salaries.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Peter, 2010</strong>
</p><p>An elbow dug into Peter’s side, startling him out of a daydream. He blinked away his worries and turned to Ned, who raised an eyebrow and nodded his head toward the front of the classroom. There, Mrs. Perry stood with her hands on her hips.</p><p>“Back with us, Peter?”</p><p>Heat rose to Peter’s cheeks and he glanced up at the board, which had moved on so much from when he had last been paying attention that it was incomprehensible.</p><p>“Uh—yes, Mrs. Perry.”</p><p>She nodded, looking rather unconvinced, but carried on with the lesson anyways. Peter glanced at Ned, who shot him a reassuring, if slightly worried, smile. Peter sighed and scooted closer to Ned’s desk so he could copy his answers.</p><p>Peter felt kinda bad. Ned was super understanding, but Peter couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about being a bad friend over the last few weeks. He knew he’d been kind of distant, and he’d turned down the last couple times Ned had invited him over to his house to work on a Lego set. Peter was just so worried about Tony. It had been almost three months, and… nothing.</p><p>Trying to ignore his worries, Peter drew himself to sit up straight and focused on trying to understand what Mrs. Perry was talking about.</p><p>He lasted about fifteen minutes before he was rapidly snapped back to his real world by a tickling on the inside of his left wrist.</p><p>His—his wrist had just tickled—that meant—</p><p>Peter gasped and slapped a hand over his mouth. Immediately, the room stilled as everyone turned to look at him.</p><p>Mrs. Perry looked even less impressed than before. “Everything alright, Peter?”</p><p>Peter glanced at Ned.</p><p>“I—uh, please may I go to the bathroom?”</p><p>Reluctantly, Mrs. Perry nodded her permission.</p><p>Peter threw himself to his feet, swiping a felt tip from his desk, and speed-walked to the door as quickly as he could. He’d get in trouble if he ran, and Peter needed to get to the bathroom where he could write in peace <em>now</em>.</p><p>“Yo, I think Parker’s got diarrhea.”</p><p>Mrs. Perry’s attention snapped back to the rest of the classroom. “Flash. Quiet.”</p><p>Peter was too happy to care about Flash’s teasing right now. Once he reached the nearest bathroom, he locked himself in the furthest stall and yanked up his jacket sleeve with a smile already splitting his face.</p><p>
  <em>Hey, kid. Still remember me?</em>
</p><p>Peter squealed, bursting into happy giggles. He pulled the lid off his felt tip and didn’t hesitate even for a minute before he brought the nib to his skin.</p><p>
  <em>Tony!!!! I missed you! Where did you go? Were you alright????</em>
</p><p>It took Tony a long moment to respond, but Peter didn’t mind. He’d never mind waiting for Tony.</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry, Pete. I was somewhere I really didn’t want to be, and there was no way for me to write to you there. But I’m home now, so what does matter is that I really, really owe you an apology.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Tony, 2013</strong>
</p><p>Tony still wasn’t quite used to the fact that Peter, his soulmate, was right there next to him, that <em>holy shit</em>, this was the faceless kid he’d been speaking to for years. This was real. He genuinely had a soulmate. Not that Peter hadn’t felt real these last few years, but going from the kid’s handwriting on his skin to his kid actually here, in person, and Tony could hug him if he wanted—that was insane.</p><p>The kid, however, had already moved on to more pressing matters.</p><p>“I’m gonna be in so much trouble,” Peter whispered as he pulled his keys out his front pocket. “I wasn’t kidding about skipping band practice to go see you. And they’re both home!”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, kiddo,” said Tony, glancing around the dark, narrow corridor. “I’m a professional at talking my way out of trouble.”</p><p>Peter smiled weakly but didn’t look particularly reassured. Gingerly, like he was afraid a bomb might go off at any moment, he turned the key in the lock and eased his way into the apartment, holding the door behind him for Tony.</p><p>The apartment beyond was small, but homey and pleasantly decorated. Tony didn’t have much time to enjoy the ambiance, however, before a bedroom door slammed open and a surprisingly attractive woman stormed out, her eyes red and her face stern.</p><p>“Where the <em>hell</em> have you been?” she snapped. “You can’t do this to me, Peter! You were meant to be home an hour ago, and then I call Ned and he tells me you never turned up for band practice and nobody has any idea where you are—”</p><p>Her voice trailed off as she finally noticed Tony. Mouth dropping open, she glanced at Peter, then back at Tony.</p><p>“Peter…?”</p><p>Peter looked back at Tony, a nervous crease between his eyebrows like he wasn’t quite sure how to explain Tony’s presence.</p><p>“May, um, I’m really sorry I skipped band practice, but… um, this is… Tony.”</p><p>May—the famous Aunt May Tony had been hearing about for years—stared at him, her mouth still hanging open.</p><p>“Tony,” she repeated, eyes boring into Tony’s own. “As in… as in <em>Tony?</em>”</p><p>“As in Tony,” said Peter, rubbing an awkward hand against the inside of his wrist. He laughed nervously, none of them quite sure what to say. “Um, who’d have thought, huh?”</p><p>May shot Peter a look as if Peter had any control over who his soulmate was and had deliberately chosen the absolute worst person in the world to have his soul forever tied to. In fact, thinking about it, hadn’t Peter told him at some point that his aunt wasn’t much of a fan of Tony Stark…?</p><p>Unable to bear the uncomfortable atmosphere, Tony forced himself to smile his winning smile—Pepper always said it made him look sleazy, but the vast majority of the rest of the world considered it charming—and held out a hand.</p><p>“Tony Stark. It’s a pleasure.”</p><p>May shook his hand. “Yeah. Yeah, Tony Stark. I gathered.”</p><p>Peter sidled closer to Tony. “C’mon, May. Let’s be nice to my soulmate.”</p><p>A male voice called from deeper into the apartment. “May? Is it Peter?”</p><p>“Ben,” May said, her voice high and thin. “I—I think you need to come here.”</p><p>Tony glanced around the apartment, feeling wholly unwelcome. He made eye contact with Peter; Peter raised his eyebrows apologetically.</p><p>A man appeared—Ben, Tony presumed. He bore a striking resemblance to Peter, but older and without that spark of innocence and optimism that had made Peter seem familiar the moment Tony had first laid eyes on him.</p><p>Ben immediately noticed Tony. He faltered.</p><p>“I—you’re Tony Sta—” He cut himself off and his eyes widened, mouth curling up in excitement. “Oh. Oh! Tony! <em>Tony</em>, right?” Ben glanced at Peter, who grinned. “Shit!” He then glanced at May, who looked slightly hysterical. “Oh—shit.”</p><p>Well, at least this wasn’t the least welcome Tony had ever felt in his life.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Peter, 2013</strong>
</p><p>This was a lot. Like, a <em>lot</em> a lot.</p><p>“Young Peter!”</p><p>Thor Odinson had just grabbed Peter’s hand. Like, Thor, Prince of Thunder, Heir to the Asgardian throne, a literal <em>God</em>. <em>That</em> Thor. And now said God was shaking Peter’s hand with surprising gentleness.</p><p>“What a fortunate day this is. I wish you many years of happiness, and that the sun may shine brightly upon you and Stark.”</p><p>He was <em>so</em> tall.</p><p>“Um!” Peter squeaked, staring mesmerized into Thor’s ocean blue eyes. “Thank you! It’s—it’s really nice to meet you!”</p><p>Peter glanced Tony’s way—Tony was watching Peter meeting the rest of the Avengers with an amused smile—and then looked over to where May and Ben were busy shaking hands with Captain America and Black Widow, respectively. May glanced up; Peter nodded in Thor’s direction and made a face as if to say <em>can you believe this?! </em>May made a similar face right back.</p><p>A scoff from Hawkeye’s direction. “The rest of us didn’t get a reaction like that! Your soulmate’s already picking favorites, Stark. He’s going to tear the team apart.”</p><p>Tony patted Peter’s shoulder. “Not even <em>I</em> got a reaction like that. Peter’s just a fickle man and he doesn’t care if we know who his favorite Avenger is.”</p><p>“I don’t—that’s not—” Peter was definitely too overwhelmed to be keeping up with a conversation right now.</p><p>Thankfully, Peter was saved from having to defend himself by a click of stilettos and a perfectly manicured hand held out in his direction.</p><p>“It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Peter. Call me Pepper,” said Ms. Potts, shaking Peter’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Tony over the years.”</p><p>“Really?” Peter squeaked.</p><p>“I might have mentioned you once or twice,” said Tony.</p><p>Ms. Potts raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly but didn’t comment.</p><p>And—wow. Peter still hadn’t recovered from the fact he’d been writing to Iron Man on his arm all these years. And now it was just sinking in that not only had Iron Man known Peter since he was five, but <em>Pepper Potts</em> had also known Peter since he was five.</p><p>Peter barely even remembered being five!</p><p>And speaking of—Iron Man had known Peter since he was <em>five</em>. Which was <em>insane!</em></p><p>Peter had been obsessed with Iron Man basically since he’d been a thing. How could he not? Back then, he was nine and obsessed with Batman and Superman comics. Of course it had blown his mind when he’d learned superheroes existed in real life! Peter’s entire class had been obsessed with Iron Man.</p><p>That obsession had only increased after the Battle of New York. A team of superheroes had saved New York from aliens! Peter and Ned and the rest of their class had watched from the school library’s window, their mouths hanging open, as aliens had clawed their way out of the sky. They’d barely been able to comprehend what they were seeing.</p><p>And then Peter had gone home and told one of said superheroes all about the hell of an afternoon he’d just had.</p><p>It was crazy.</p><p>Ms. Potts smiled at Peter again, and wow, she was even more stunning in real life. That, and the loving look in her eyes when she looked at Tony, reminded Peter.</p><p>He smirked and turned to Tony. “So I guess you finally got around to telling Ms. Potts about how you think she’s really pretty?”</p><p>Ms. Potts's eyes lit up in amusement. Tony, on the other hand, blanched like he’d just remembered how well he and Peter already knew each other.</p><p>“Alright, let’s wrap it up, people. I’ve just decided I will, in fact, actually <em>not</em> be introducing Peter to any of you.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Tony, 2013</strong>
</p><p>The coffee machine had just beeped when Tony’s arm tickled. Tony flicked on the light over the stove—it was well into the early hours of the morning, and Tony was trying his best not to wake Pepper and incur her wrath by turning on the overheads—and squinted to read the writing there.</p><p>
  <em>Hey, Tony! I miss you!</em>
</p><p>Immediately, Tony’s heart softened. Goddammit. How was this kid capable of melting Tony with just a few words? Howard would have hated it; it was Tony’s favorite thing about Peter.</p><p>
  <em>We saw each other a few hours ago, kiddo. Remember? Dinner? Ringing any bells? Did you get drunk on the tiramisu and black out?</em>
</p><p>When the next message sank into Tony’s arm, he could practically hear Peter’s whine.</p><p>
  <em>Tonyyyyyyyyyyyyy.</em>
</p><p>Tony grabbed his coffee and took a sip as another message appeared.</p><p>
  <em>I knowww but I miss you already. I don’t wanna have to wait until Wednesday to see you again! That’s so long!!!</em>
</p><p>It was three days, but Tony guessed that must be like a month in twelve-year-old time.</p><p>He took another sip of his coffee and brought his pen to his skin, but before he could write anything, another message came through from Peter.</p><p>
  <em>It’s kinda weird, isn’t it?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What is, Pete?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That I miss you already. Like, I didn’t meet you for twelve years and it was fine, I didn’t mind at all, but now that we have met I just wanna be with you all the time. </em>
</p><p>Oh, this <em>kid</em>.</p><p>This kid was far too sweet—and definitely far too good to be associated with Tony. He was surprised how warm it made him feel inside that Peter valued him and his company so much he hated the prospect of just a few days spent apart. He couldn’t quite believe that Peter <em>did</em> feel that way. Not that he thought the kid was lying, it just… seemed improbable.</p><p>Once again Tony was struck by how much he absolutely did not deserve Peter, and that the greatest miracle in his life was the universe for some reason deciding that he did.</p><p>
  <em>Well I can strap you onto the back of an Iron Man suit if it makes you feel better, Pete, but I don’t think May would approve.</em>
</p><p>Another whine.</p><p>
  <em>Tonyyyyyyy.</em>
</p><p>Tony chuckled.</p><p>Okay, they were doing feelings. He could do feelings. He had so many feelings where Peter was concerned, and the vast majority of them were good. The ones that weren’t had nothing to do with Peter and everything to do with Tony.</p><p>
  <em>I know how you feel, Pete. It’s different to normal missing, right?</em>
</p><p><em>Yes! </em>Peter responded. <em>It’s like I can actually feel the distance between us. </em></p><p>Another message came through immediately after. <em>Good thing we both live in New York haha, imagine if we were like, on opposite sides of the world.</em></p><p>
  <em>I guess this is what people mean when they say two halves of a whole. It sure does feel like it, huh?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m definitely the better half!</em>
</p><p>Tony rolled his eyes.</p><p>
  <em>You little brat. We’ll put it to a popular vote. Which, I don’t think I need to tell you, I will win.</em>
</p><p>Peter was correct, though.</p><p>Tony brought the nib to his skin again. <em>I’ll see what we can do about seeing each other before Wednesday. I don’t wanna be seen in Queens too often, though, so we’ll have to see what Happy thinks.</em></p><p><em>Right. </em>Peter’s disappointment was palpable. <em>Ugh that sucks so much. You’re Iron Man. Can’t you just change your face or something? The government is hiding alien tech from us but I know you know!</em></p><p>
  <em>Dang it. You’re on to me. Next I’m going to have to pretend like I don’t have access to Area 51.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Omg Tony you DON’T!!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yeah, I don’t.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yeah right. Likely story.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There’s nothing I can say now that will convince you I don’t know what’s in Area 51, is there?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Nope!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Okay, well, if I see this in the Daily Bugle tomorrow morning, I’ll know it was you who told.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’d say I’d never, but I’d do anything for, like, twenty dollars.</em>
</p><p><em>I’ll bear that in mind. </em>Tony glanced at the time on the microwave. <em>Doesn’t a certain someone have school tomorrow and should definitely be asleep?</em></p><p>
  <em>Omg, I can’t believe Iron Man just told me to go to bed already.</em>
</p><p>That drew a laugh from Tony. He took another sip of his coffee as another message faded onto his arm.</p><p>
  <em>And besides, I’ve talked to Pepper. I’m not the only one who should be in bed right now!</em>
</p><p>Tony glanced down at his coffee and winced.</p><p>
  <em>Right, letting you and Pepper meet each other was the worst mistake of my life. I knew I should have shut that conversation down sooner. I hope you ended that interaction on good terms because you two are never talking to each other again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I already have her number!</em>
</p><p>Tony was busy having a mild heart attack at the knowledge that Pepper and Peter now had the ability to talk to each other—God knows what they could achieve if they put their minds to it—when another message came through.</p><p>
  <em>May just caught me with my light on :( Gonna have to say goodnight now!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Alright, kiddo. I’ll talk to you in the morning. Try not to combust while you’re not able to bask in the glory of my presence.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yeahhhh I’m sure I’ll be just fine. Good night! Love you! :)</em>
</p><p>Was this what healthy interpersonal relationships were like?</p><p>
  <em>Love you too, Pete.</em>
</p><p>Tony grabbed his coffee cup, ready to head back down to the lab. But then a moment later, there was another tickle on the inside of his wrist.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, and go to bed!! :)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Peter, 2014</strong>
</p><p>A pen nib dragging across his skin as he fought against the rope holding him down.</p><p>“<em>No!</em> Get—get <em>off me!</em>”</p><p>“Shut up, brat.”</p><p>Peter was blindfolded; the slap came with no warning. His head jerked to the side. Pain burned across his face, bringing tears to his eyes that he refused to let fall. He wasn’t going to cry—he really, really didn’t want to let these men see him cry—</p><p>“<em>Tony!</em>”</p><p>His voice cracked. The men laughed.</p><p>A <em>crack</em> of duct tape being peeled. Moments later, disembodied hands slapped the tape over Peter’s mouth, silencing his futile begging for them to leave him alone.</p><p>“Peter.”</p><p>Panic welled up in Peter’s chest, cinching a band around his chest to choke the air from his lungs. He couldn’t move his hands, couldn’t kick his legs, couldn’t see. He couldn’t stop his kidnappers from doing whatever they wanted to him. And now he couldn’t talk, the one final semblance of control he’d had stripped from him without a moment’s notice.</p><p>He sucked in a desperate breath through his nose, but the stuffy, humid air around him felt too thin. Peter was suffocating as three bodies crowded around him, holding him down, violating the bond he shared with Tony. It was too hot, and he couldn’t move, he couldn’t—he just wanted to be able to <em>move</em>—</p><p>“Peter!”</p><p>He couldn’t see what they were writing to Tony, and it brought hot, angry tears to Peter’s eyes. The link Tony and Peter shared was special. It shouldn’t be used like this. Peter hated to imagine what it must be like for Tony to think Peter was writing to him only for him to read—</p><p>Peter wanted out. He really, really wanted out. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted Tony. Please, <em>please, Tony, find me</em>—</p><p>He also really didn’t want his captors to see him cry, but he couldn’t hold it in. He was <em>scared</em>.</p><p>Peter’s resolve broke and he sobbed into the tape gag. The men laughed again, this time more raucously, the sound echoing, growing louder and louder and Peter’s entire body felt alive with fear, with apprehension, with dread as to what these men could do to him—</p><p>“<em>Peter!</em>”</p><p>Peter plunged into wakefulness like he’d broken through ice; panic drew too thin air into his lungs in short gasps and his limbs flailed as he struggled to make sense of what was happening around him.</p><p>Something grabbed at his hands and held them steady. “Hey, hey. Just me. You’re okay. You’re safe.”</p><p>Dark shapes and looming figures sharpened and cleared to make sense. It was Tony, leaning worriedly over Peter, the rest of Peter’s bedroom over Tony’s shoulders lit only by the light streaming in through the open door.</p><p>The fight drained from Peter’s limbs at the sight of his soulmate. “Tony,” he breathed.</p><p>Peter freed his wrists from Tony’s gentle grip and threw his arms around Tony’s neck to drag him down into a hug. He buried his face in Tony’s shirt and sobbed. It was safe to cry now. Tony would never mock him, would only hold him tight and protect him until everything felt right again.</p><p>Between sobs and gasping breaths, Tony's signature scent of too-expensive cologne mixed with metal and cheap oil helped ease the tension in Peter’s limbs.</p><p>Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, slightly awkwardly given the weird angle, and ran a hand through Peter’s hair in that way he loved.</p><p>“It’s me. You’re safe. You’re at the Tower. May and Ben are across the hall. You’re okay. You're okay, sweetheart. It was just a bad dream.”</p><p>Peter nodded. He knew that. Of course he knew that. It had been days since his torment had ended. Tony had found him, and he and Steve had rescued him while the rest of the Avengers had dealt with the kidnappers. Peter <em>knew</em> he was safe.</p><p>The only problem was that his brain hadn’t quite caught up yet.</p><p>It had been several days, but Peter still wasn’t ready to leave the safety of the Tower and move back home. Neither, Peter could tell, was Tony quite ready to let Peter out of his sight for longer than a few hours.</p><p>Not when every time Peter shut his eyes, he was transported back there and would wake up soaked in sweat, to either May or Ben or Tony hovering over him.</p><p>A slight heat rose to Peter’s cheeks. Peter knew he couldn’t be the only one that was getting tired of the nightmares. He felt like everyone in the Tower was on edge, all because of him.</p><p>But Tony kept running a hand through his hair, showing no sign he was fed up with Peter refusing to just get over it already.</p><p>Tony spoke softly into Peter’s hair. “What do you think, kiddo? Wanna try and sleep again? Or should we go watch a movie?”</p><p>Tony claimed he was fine running on little to no sleep—something Pepper had very reluctantly agreed with but had then immediately insisted that wasn’t an invitation to try—but Peter still felt guilty.</p><p>“Let’s… let’s just go to sleep.”</p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Peter never had the nightmares when Tony was in the room. Whenever he forgot he was safe, Tony was always there to remind him.</p><p>Wordlessly, Peter shuffled over to make room for Tony to lay down next to him. Tony pulled the covers up over them both and they curled up together, fitting together like two puzzle pieces—like two halves of a whole.</p><p>Tony tucked Peter’s head beneath his chin. “I got you, Petey. It’s alright. Just go to sleep.”</p><p>Peter breathed in Tony’s scent of cologne and metal and oil and felt the final remnants of tension melt from his limbs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! Tune in next time for the spider bite and the events of Homecoming... 👀</p><p><a href="https://opal-earrings.tumblr.com/">My Tumblr</a> &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So chronology meant that all the angstier scenes ended up being in this second half... have fun! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Tony, 2015</strong>
</p><p>“Boss, Peter is on his way up.”</p><p>“Thanks, FRI.”</p><p>Thankfully, the paperwork spread across Tony’s desk wasn’t particularly urgent. He gladly threw down his pen and instead headed up to the penthouse’s kitchen, already busy planning what he was going to cook to satiate Peter’s growing appetite.</p><p>Today wasn’t a tutoring day, but rather a day when May and Ben’s shifts coincided, so Peter come to the Tower to be babysat. The kid, of course, hated that phrase.</p><p>“You’re not <em>babysitting</em> me. I’m fourteen! And you’re my soulmate! We’re just… hanging out.”</p><p>“We’ve been ordered to hang out by May because she doesn’t trust you to be home alone. That sounds like babysitting to me.”</p><p>“Well in that case you need to step up your game or else I’ll hire myself a <em>real</em> babysitter who can, like, make me snacks and stuff.”</p><p>Which Tony had taken as a hint. He now made sure to prepare Peter a snack whenever he came over to the Tower, and Peter always pretended to be grateful, even though most of the time the delicacies Tony served up were mildly charred.</p><p>Faint footsteps padded into the kitchen behind him, then a bag was dropped on the island.</p><p>“Hey, Tony,” Peter said softly.</p><p>“There’s my little secret agent,” said Tony, struggling with a pan of scrambled eggs. “In the drawer to your left you will find a notebook. In it I want you to write all the trade secrets you stole from Norman Osborn while you were undercover.”</p><p>Prolonged silence. “…What?”</p><p>“Are you telling me you didn’t uncover anything scandalous happening at Oscorp while you were there? What the hell was the point of me giving you permission to go, then?”</p><p>Tony winced as, inevitably, the scrambled eggs began to burn, and quickly took them off the heat to plate up.</p><p>“Um,” said Peter. “I’m sorry… we were mostly just in the labs, but… they didn’t really show us anything very interesting. Yeah. Nothing—nothing interesting happened. At all.”</p><p>“Well, you were at Oscorp. They can’t help that.”</p><p>Finally, Tony turned around, a plate of scrambled eggs on toast in either hand. He frowned. Peter was slumped over the kitchen island, resting his chin on his hands. He looked pale and his eyes were half-lidded.</p><p>Gently, Tony set the plates down and slid one across to Peter.</p><p>“We feeling alright, Pete?”</p><p>Peter blinked as Tony handed him a fork. “Um… yeah, I’m okay. I’m fine.”</p><p>“You sure? I can get one of the nurses in the medbay to check on you. You don’t look great.”</p><p>Normally, Peter would have responded with something sarcastic, but today he merely poked at his food with his fork and said, “I’m just tired.”</p><p>Keeping a watchful eye on the kid, Tony dug into his own eggs. “I’m not surprised. I can’t last more than an hour within a five-block radius of Norman Osborn, so I don’t blame you. I should have made a stronger case to May about how sending you there is likely child abuse. Why doesn’t your school do a trip to Stark Industries?”</p><p>“You said you didn’t want to risk people making the connection between us,” Peter mumbled.</p><p>“Right.” Dammit. “Still. I need to get your school some better funding. Is there not literally anywhere else in the whole of New York City you could go other than Oscorp?”</p><p>“Hmm.”</p><p>Taking the hint, Tony lapsed into silence. They quietly ate together, Tony watching worriedly as Peter stared down at his plate but didn’t actually touch the food that much. Eventually, Peter pushed his mostly still full plate to the side and staggered to his feet.</p><p>“I… I think I’m gonna go lie down.”</p><p>Peter still looked pretty pale, and he clearly wasn’t hungry. Worriedly, Tony nodded. Maybe a nap was exactly what he needed.</p><p>“Alright. I’ll get your plate. Tell FRIDAY when you wake up, okay?”</p><p>Peter nodded and shuffled off. He stumbled when he reached the doorway, and one hand shot out to brace himself against the wall.</p><p>“Peter?”</p><p>“Tony,” Peter said, a slight note of panic in his voice. “I don’t… I don’t feel so good.”</p><p>And then he collapsed.</p><p>Tony threw himself to his feet with a cry. He lunged forward and only just managed to catch Peter before his head collided with the island. Tony sank to his knees as he struggled to support the kid’s dead weight.</p><p>“Peter?” Tony’s voice was tight. “Peter, can you hear me?”</p><p>Peter’s face was pale and clammy, but his cheeks were flushed bright red. Gently, Tony propped Peter’s head up with one arm and used his other hand to stroke Peter’s bangs out of his face. His forehead was burning hot and sticky with sweat. Definitely a fever.</p><p>“<em>Shit!</em>”</p><p>Goddammit, he’d known something was wrong with Peter. Why the hell didn’t he press and ask him to clarify how he was feeling? Seeing him just drop like that was <em>terrifying</em>.</p><p>Tony swallowed, choking on his panic.</p><p>“FRIDAY, what’s—what’s wrong with him?”</p><p>Her voice was gentle and soothing, but it did nothing for Tony’s heart rate.</p><p>“Mr. Parker’s symptoms and elevated temperature suggest that he is currently suffering from influenza. Might I recommend bed rest and a wet compress to help relieve his fever?”</p><p>Tony forced himself to calm down. Peter needed him.</p><p>“Right. Bed and a wet compress. I can do that.”</p><p>As gently as possible, Tony eased Peter up off the floor, careful to support his head.</p><p>It was as Tony was tucking the kid into bed that the kid finally stirred. He blinked up at the ceiling with screwed up eyebrows for a moment before his eyes met Tony’s and the creases in his forehead smoothed out.</p><p>“Tony?”</p><p>“I’m here, baby.” Tony brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Not feeling too hot, huh?”</p><p>Peter grimaced and shook his head, mussing up his hair at the back. “<em>Too</em> hot.”</p><p>That forced a stressed laugh out of Tony. “No, yeah, you’re right. Bad wording on my part.” He glanced around, trying to work out how to go about this. “FRI thinks you’ve got the flu. I’m going to get you feeling okay in no time, alright? Don’t you worry. You just lie there and focus on getting better.”</p><p>Peter sighed deeply and his eyes slipped shut again. “Mm’kay.”</p><p>And that was how the rest of the day passed; Peter drifting in and out of consciousness as Tony struggled to get his kid back to his normal self. He did the wet compress, encouraged when Peter sighed in relief at the cool fabric on his forehead, and forced Peter to drink plenty of fluids whenever he briefly rejoined him in the land of the living.</p><p>As the sky outside Peter’s window turned pink, then red, then purple, Tony abruptly remembered that Peter had hardly eaten anything all afternoon. He took it upon himself to make him soup. After a brief breakdown over the phone with Pepper—first about his failed soup, and then more generally about how he was probably going to fuck up nursing Peter back to health—Tony cracked open a can of chicken noodle soup leftover in the back of the cupboard from last year’s flu season.</p><p>It wasn’t exactly the homemade soup he’d been picturing, but Peter seemed to appreciate it.</p><p>Or at least until ten minutes later, when it all came straight back up again.</p><p>Eventually, as the sky turned black and lit up with an orange glow, Tony ran out of things to fuss over. Peter was safely tucked up in bed, fed and cared for, and sleeping as peacefully as could be expected given the virus currently going to town on his respiratory system.</p><p>May and Ben would be over as soon as their respective shifts were over, Pepper and Rhodey had been by as moral support, and the Avengers had sequestered their rowdiness to a different floor of the penthouse. Peter was asleep, and probably would stay asleep for a while. The penthouse was strangely still.</p><p>With one last fond squeeze of the kid’s clammy hand, Tony stood to go clean up the disaster he’d left in the kitchen after the soup incident.</p><p>Before he could go, however, his hand met resistance.</p><p>Tony glanced back at Peter. The kid, eyes still firmly shut, squeezed Tony’s hand and gave it a weak tug.</p><p>“Stay,” he croaked.</p><p>And, well, shit. Who was Tony to deny an order like that?</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Peter, 2015</strong>
</p><p>The pen was gently pried from Peter’s bloody grip.</p><p>“Is your soulmate on his way, sweetheart?”</p><p>
  <em>Tony</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tony help me</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They told me I need my guardian but I don’t wanna call May</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Help me</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Please</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I don’t know what to do</em>
</p><p>Scratchy handwriting sinking into his skin between the bloodstains.</p><p>
  <em>Peter? What’s going on? Are you hurt? Where are you?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Don’t worry. I tracked your phone. I’m on my way, okay? Just stay where you are. Don’t talk to any police officers until I get there, they’re vultures.</em>
</p><p>Weakly, Peter looked up and nodded. Tony was coming.</p><p>The woman crouched before him sighed, but she didn’t sound annoyed. She sounded sad.</p><p>“Alright, sweetheart. We’ll wait for him to get here.”</p><p>She stood and left, careful not to let the door to the interrogation room slam on her way out. Peter barely noticed. He stared down at his hands, tunnel vision leaving him blind to anything but the red stained across his palms and fingers. The blood was fast turning brown and flaky as every slow, agonizing second slipped by, leaving Ben behind.</p><p>There was so much blood.</p><p>It saturated the knees of Peter’s jeans where he had knelt on the sidewalk. It was streaked across his shirt where Ben had grabbed him, forcing him to pay attention as Ben had choked out his last words through bloodstained lips. It was even on Peter’s face, slowly drying tight and itchy, although he didn’t remember how it got there.</p><p>Peter didn’t know what to do.</p><p>Ben. Ben, Ben, <em>I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please come back</em>—</p><p>Tony was coming. Tony would know what to do, would know how to get Peter back on track as he floundered, his consciousness floating somewhere above him, disconnected from his body.</p><p>When he arrived, Tony ripped through the precinct like a tornado. The quiet atmosphere of the night shift didn’t stand a chance against Tony’s fear and worry.</p><p>“Mr. Stark?” A voice Peter didn’t recognize. “Stop! You can’t just walk on in—”</p><p>“Looks like I just did, buddy. I’m here for Peter Parker.”</p><p>“I—I don’t—”</p><p>“Either show me where he is, or I’ll find him myself.”</p><p>The muffled shouting continued until, finally, the door to Peter’s room burst open.</p><p>Peter dragged his eyes away from the stains on his hands. Tony stood in the doorway, dressed in ill-fitting sweatpants and a greasy AC-DC t-shirt that were crumpled around his joints from the Iron Man suit. He looked so much like Home Tony, not Public Tony, that it was almost jarring. His jaw was set sternly, and anger burned behind his eyes. He didn’t—he didn’t understand, Peter realized. He thought Peter had been arrested.</p><p>And then Tony met Peter’s gaze, and the anger slipped as he realized that something far, far worse had happened.</p><p>Peter must have looked like a nightmare, streaked with tears and soaked in blood, and Tony’s face paled as terror flitted across his features.</p><p>He pushed his way into the room and collapsed in front of Peter. His hands darted over Peter’s arms and across his abdomen, checking for wounds.</p><p>“Peter? Talk to me, buddy. What’s happened? It’s alright. Whatever’s happened, I’m gonna make it okay.”</p><p>Weakly, Peter shook his head. He couldn’t. This was a problem even Tony Stark couldn’t fix.</p><p>Tony’s voice grew more desperate. “Peter? You’re scaring me just a little, bud. What’s happened?”</p><p>A voice interrupted—the woman from before. “Um, Mr. Stark? Are you—are you here for this young man?”</p><p>“Yes,” said Tony, hands gripping Peter’s shoulders. “I’m his soulmate. What’s happened to him? Is he hurt?”</p><p>“I’m afraid this young man was brought here after witnessing a homicide. We need to question him about what happened, but he’s struggling to calm down—”</p><p>“Uh—yeah, no. We’re leaving. Goodbye.”</p><p>“I—excuse me?”</p><p>“You’re not questioning him tonight. I’m taking him home. My secretary will get in contact with you once he’s ready to speak with you.”</p><p>The woman spluttered. “Mr. Stark, we need to question him as soon as possible. Memories can be unreliable, and the boy is our key witness—”</p><p>“Yeah, I don’t care. Fucking look at him. You can take it up with my lawyers.” His voice softened. “Pete? You think you can stand up, buddy?”</p><p>“With all due respect, Mr. Stark, we have no evidence you even know this boy. And even if you are his soulmate, we can’t release him into your care. He has to wait for his guardians. I can’t just let you leave with a vulnerable child, I don’t care who you are—”</p><p>“Tony,” Peter whispered.</p><p>His head hurt. He was tired, deep down to his bones, and the raised voices in front of him were making it worse. He—he just wanted them to stop—</p><p>Familiar calloused hands grabbed his own, mindless of the blood there.</p><p>“I’m here, Pete. Can you tell me what’s going on? Are you hurt?”</p><p>“Tony, I—I—”</p><p>“I’m here. Are you bleeding?” Tony’s thumbs rubbed over the stains across Peter’s knuckles. “Pete, whose blood is this?”</p><p>Emotion welled up in him, seizing his organs and twisting them, pulling them, sending physical pain coursing through his body. He didn’t know what to do.</p><p>“<em>Tony</em>.”</p><p>His skin was itching, clawing with disgust at the blood staining every inch of him. He wanted it off. He wanted it <em>off</em>.</p><p>“I’m here, I’m here. Please talk to me, Pete.”</p><p>“Ben. <em>Ben</em>, it’s Ben, it’s Ben, he…”</p><p>Abruptly, Tony went very still.</p><p>“Ben?” he whispered, squeezing Peter’s hands with a panicked urgency. “What—what’s happened to Ben? Where is he?”</p><p>“He’s—he—I couldn’t—I couldn’t help h-h—”</p><p>Understanding set in on Tony’s face; horror drained the color from his cheeks. His face twisted and he grabbed Peter’s shoulders and tugged him into his arms. It wasn’t really a hug. It was something… more desperate.</p><p>“Oh, shit. Oh, <em>shit</em>. Shit. Ben…”</p><p>Peter could feel Tony trembling.</p><p>“Fuck, Peter, I—”</p><p>Tony’s voice trailed off. There was nothing to say.</p><p>At his soulmate’s panic and grief, Peter’s final walls broke down. Ben was dead. Ben was dead, he was dead, he’d died in Peter’s arms and he’d done nothing. The tickling in his neck had warned him. He knew something was going to happen, had known even before the gun had gone off, and yet he hadn’t done anything. He’d done <em>nothing</em>, and now Ben was—Ben was—</p><p>Peter broke down and sobbed into Tony’s shoulder.</p><p>He continued to sob uncontrollably as Tony guided him from the chair, refusing to let the police officers interrogate him. As Tony explained that he’d have NDAs sent over from Stark Industries. As they waited outside, as Tony sent an Iron Man suit home, as they waited for Happy, white-faced and subdued, to arrive with a car.</p><p>The dam had burst, and Peter couldn’t stop the flood of tears.</p><p>Tony, however, held on, at least until they arrived back at the Tower. He left Peter on a couch, wrapped up in Happy’s arms, and, with an apology in his eyes, excused himself to go to the next room.</p><p>Peter could still hear him, thanks to his enhanced hearing. He wished he couldn’t. In painful clarity, he heard Tony making a call, heard when the person on the other end picked up.</p><p>“Hey, Tony!” May. “Sorry, I can’t talk long—busy shift.”</p><p>Tony didn’t break down until May did.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Tony, 2016</strong>
</p><p>Seabirds called and helicopter blades thrummed as Tony hovered in the air, staring down at Peter’s hunched figure. He was still wearing the suit—that damned suit Tony had had so much fun designing. The one Peter had hacked so he could bypass all the safety features Tony had ever so meticulously included.</p><p>“Is everyone okay?”</p><p>“No thanks to you.”</p><p>“No thanks to me?” Peter hopped down from the wall he was sat on, anger and hurt staining his features. “I tried to tell you those weapons were out there, and you didn’t listen to me. You don’t take me seriously. None of you take me seriously! This wouldn’t have happened if you’d just <em>listened to me!</em>” He scoffed and turned away, eyes already searching for a route to swing away. “You know what? I’m not talking to your empty suit again, Tony. You wanna talk, you’re gonna talk to me in person.”</p><p>Alright, the kid asked for it. The suit opened up around Tony and he stepped out, fixing Peter with an unimpressed stare.</p><p>Regret and panic flashed across Peter’s face.</p><p>“I did listen, kid.” Of course he’d listened. He always listened to his kid. It was Peter who hadn’t listened, sneaking around behind everyone’s backs when he <em>knew</em> Spider-Man as a concept was on thin ice.</p><p>Peter hadn’t been there to witness May’s stress as she paced back and forth across the penthouse living room for the entirety of Peter’s first patrol. Peter wasn’t there when May had called Tony after Peter’s first serious injury, terrified she was a bad mother and she was going to lose Peter so soon after losing Ben.</p><p>Peter wasn’t there when Tony had to convince May, again, that Spider-Man was a good idea. That the Avengers were looking out for Peter, and that they would never let anything happen to him.</p><p>Tony fought to keep his growing anger under control. “I told you to leave the Vulture guy alone. Who do you think called the FBI, huh?</p><p>“Do you even know how hard I had to fight for you, for you to be out here in that suit? Everyone else said I was crazy to send you out into danger like that. And you know what? I’m starting to think they were right.”</p><p>“You all go out into danger all the time! I can handle it!”</p><p>“No, this is where you <em>zip it</em>, Peter! What if somebody had died tonight? Different story, right, cause that’s on <em>you</em>.” Tony’s heart pounded against the scar tissue in his sternum, sending bursts of pain throughout his chest. “And if you died, I feel like that’s on me. How would I tell May if something happened to you, Peter? What could I <em>possibly</em> say to her?”</p><p>Peter’s face fell as though he hadn’t considered that. Of course he hadn’t. The kid didn’t <em>think</em>.</p><p>“And what about May, huh? If you died, what do you think May’s going to do? You know she’s not happy with you putting yourself in danger every day. How do you think she’s going to feel if you end up proving her right?”</p><p>“I—” Peter’s voice cracked. “I don’t… I didn’t… I just wanted to be like you.”</p><p>And oh if seeing Peter on the brink of crying didn’t pull at Tony’s heartstrings as it always did, didn’t spark that parental affection inside him that told him to pull Peter close, to stop his tears, to make everything right for the kid. But Tony forced it down.</p><p>“And I wanted you to be better.”</p><p>He’d always wanted Peter to be better. For his life to be better, for him to have every opportunity he could have ever dreamed of, for him not to make the same mistakes Tony did. For him not to grow up thinking his safety was worth putting on the line to ensure to the wellbeing of others like Tony did.</p><p>“Being a superhero isn’t a joke, Peter. If we tell you to stop chasing a bad guy, you stop.” Tony sighed. “Okay, it’s not working. I’m gonna need the suit back.”</p><p>Peter’s face paled. “For how long?”</p><p>“Forever, Peter.”</p><p>Peter’s eyes went wide and shiny, and Tony forced himself to break eye contact.</p><p>“No no no, please—”</p><p>“Yes. This is how it works, Peter.”</p><p>“No, please. I need this suit, I need to be helping people. I’m nothing without this suit!” </p><p>“If you’re nothing without this suit, then you shouldn’t have it.”</p><p>Peter was everything without that suit. Bright, intelligent, kind, and the one patch of sunshine in Tony’s life he could always rely on to be there, to make the world seem okay when everything was falling to pieces around him. And most importantly, without the suit Peter would be <em>safe</em>.</p><p>Taking away the suit was going to make Peter miserable, yes. But even more than Tony wanted Peter to be happy, he wanted him to be safe.</p><p>Peter finally broke eye contact, his jaw clenched as he stared down at the floor. “I don’t have any other clothes.”</p><p>“Swing back to the Tower and leave it in the lab. Then go home. And head <em>straight</em> back. Karen will tell me if you take a detour.”</p><p>Peter stared down at the ground as the suit reassembled around Tony. Without a further word, Tony jetted off towards the New York skyline, his heartrate flashing red across his HUD.</p><p>Images flashed across his vision of Peter, strung up between two slowly sinking halves of a ferry. He just knew horrific visions of the worst-case scenario would be haunting his sleep that night.</p><p>Tony couldn’t handle this. He <em>couldn’t</em>. He couldn’t let his soulmate continue to put himself in danger. Why he’d ever thought it was a good idea to let Peter go out in a bright red and blue suit that just screamed <em>look at me, I’m a target</em> was beyond him. It wasn’t working. And it definitely wasn’t doing anything admirable for Tony’s chronic heart condition.</p><p>He didn’t want to take Spider-Man away, but he had no other choice.</p><p>The hurt in Peter’s eyes still pained Tony either way.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Peter, 2016</strong>
</p><p>Peter swayed back and forth as the elevator made its slow ascent. His whole face hurt, and he refused to look in the mirror. The harsh overhead lighting threw the shadows beneath his eyes into sharp relief and emphasized the blood pouring from his nose, lip, and cheek and the bruise beneath his eye. He looked like death warmed up, and felt about the same.</p><p>Tony was going to lose it.</p><p>He glanced at the floor numbers as they slowly went up and tried to suppress a shudder. Even if he hadn’t been hurt, Tony was going to be furious.</p><p>Peter and Tony had never really argued before, not until Peter had screwed up with the Staten Island ferry at least, but Peter was terrified of the idea. He’d <em>seen </em>the worst of Tony’s temper. Just a few months ago he’d walked in on an argument between the Avengers about the Sokovia Accords that had seemed pretty serious, but thankfully had all been worked out in the end. He’d also seen the fury burning behind Tony’s eyes in the wake of his kidnapping, as much as Tony had tried to hide it around him.</p><p>As much as he was used to seeing Tony’s anger, Peter really wasn’t used to it being directed at him.</p><p>And now Tony was going to be so mad.</p><p>Peter had disobeyed him. He’d left Liz on the dancefloor, confronted her dad, and then got into a fight on a Quinjet which he then crashed into Coney Island beach, all after Tony had specifically told him to forget about the Vulture.</p><p>So, yeah. He was a little scared of Tony’s temper.</p><p>But Peter needed to be here, at the Tower. He’d been crushed by a building, crashed a plane, and then barely survived being beaten senseless by the Vulture. How’d he’d stayed conscious as he swung his way through Brooklyn, beneath Manhattan bridge, and then all the way to Midtown, when right now just stood in the elevator it was a struggle to stay conscious, was beyond him.</p><p>He needed the medbay, to tend to the cuts and burns and broken bones he could feel knitting themselves back together all across his body. And he had no choice but to face Tony’s wrath to get there.</p><p>The elevator arrived, and Peter stepped out into the penthouse. Raised voices hit Peter like a wall, although they quickly trailed off as Peter stepped into view of the Avengers gathered by the living room window.</p><p>Heads snapped towards him; Peter’s eyes immediately met Tony’s. His soulmate’s face was flushed, his eyes dark in the dim lighting of the penthouse, and a jolt of apprehension shot through Peter.</p><p>Behind him, the majority of the rest of the Avengers turned to look at Peter too. Their bodies were tense, and the hostile atmosphere in the room raised goosebumps down Peter’s arms. The city was lit up beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, and in the far distance, Peter could just make out the glow of fires burning on Coney Island.</p><p>Tony broke away from the group. Peter flinched.</p><p>“Tony, I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I had to go after him—I had to stop him, and I’m really sorry, but I couldn’t just leave it—”</p><p>His words broke off as Tony reached him and pulled him tight against his chest.</p><p>Peter stiffened. He… hadn’t been expecting that, and he was still a little scared, but he wrapped his arms around his soulmate without a second thought. He’d never turn down a hug from Tony, even if he was kinda… confused.</p><p>“Tony?” he said warily.</p><p>Tony tightened his grip.</p><p>“Peter,” he breathed. “Thank… thank fuck. <em>Christ</em>. Thank god you’re here. <em>Shit</em>…”</p><p>While Peter was still busy trying to work out what the hell was going on, Tony abruptly pulled back and leaned down to examine Peter’s face. His eyes danced from Peter’s broken nose, to his split lip, to the cut across his cheekbone. Guilt settled in Peter’s stomach at the pain in Tony’s eyes as he took in each and every wound on his face.</p><p>Before Peter could speak, however, Tony did.</p><p>“Where the <em>hell</em> have you been?” Tony shook his head. “No, you know what, I don’t wanna know. Do you have <em>any</em> idea of the hell you’ve just put us all through?”</p><p>“I—I’m sorry, Tony.”</p><p>Tony barreled on as if Peter hadn’t even spoken. “You left Homecoming—real charming move there, Pete, you’re gonna be a real hit with the ladies—and you know how we found out? Do you know how we first heard you’d left Homecoming?”</p><p>The heat in Tony’s words made Peter sink into himself. “I—no—”</p><p>“We find out when Karen sends a distress signal from your phone to tell me she thinks you’re in <em>immediate mortal peril</em>.”</p><p>Peter felt the blood drain from his cheeks. He’d slipped his phone into his pocket before he’d gone in to confront the Vulture, and then completely forgotten about it. He hadn’t even considered Karen—</p><p>Tony wasn’t done. “So immediate, in fact, that Karen didn’t even successfully finish sending the signal before FRIDAY lost all contact with her.”</p><p>Sheepishly, Peter pulled his phone out of his back pocket. It was smashed beyond all repair.</p><p>Tony’s eyes flashed with pain—he tried his best to hide it, but Peter knew him well enough to know how badly he’d fucked up.</p><p>“So all we know is that you’re out there somewhere, hurt and possibly bleeding out if not <em>dead</em>, and we have <em>no fucking idea where you are</em>.”</p><p>Peter shrunk in on himself. He hadn’t—he hadn’t realized—</p><p>“So we’re in code red, right, cause for a hot hour there we think you’re <em>dead</em>, and what’s the next we hear from you? When Happy goes to deal with a Quinjet that just crashed, and we find out that you were on the Quinjet when it went down but that <em>no-one</em> can fucking find you.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered. His excuse seemed ridiculously pathetic now, but— “I had to deal with the Vulture. I got him.”</p><p>Tony worked his jaw. “I know, Pete. You did—you did good. But you can’t do anything like that ever again. This isn’t working out.”</p><p>Peter’s eyes snapped up to meet Tony’s. “What?”</p><p>Tony continued, seemingly missing Peter’s panic. “Things can’t carry on like this. You don’t know how fucking <em>terrified</em> we were, Pete, and I’m <em>not</em> going through that again.”</p><p>“No, no—Tony, I’m sorry. Please. Please don’t take this away from me, I <em>need</em> to do this—you can’t—”</p><p>“Woah, woah.” Tony held out his hands. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, Pete.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Tony sighed. “We’ve been going about this wrong, Peter. We’ve been giving you too much independence, been letting you run amok. Taking a hands-off approach, if you will. And that’s gonna have to change in future.”</p><p>“Tony, please—please, don’t—”</p><p>“Pete,” Tony said softly, silencing Peter. “I’m not taking this away from you. I’m saying that we messed up. That we’re at fault. You were doing the best you could with the situation we’d set up for you. You told us you needed to help, and we thought you’d—you’d just stop because it’s the smarter thing to do. I still really fucking wish you would, but we don’t even hold ourselves to that standard. What I did with the suit? That wasn’t fair.”</p><p>Peter was still just confused.</p><p>“Of course you screwed up, Pete. You’re a kid. A kid with way more power than you reasonably should have, and we shouldn’t have trusted you with the freedom we gave you. Not because you don’t deserve it—but because you’re not <em>ready</em> for it. But you will be, one day, and it’s our job to get you there. And that includes keeping you on a tight leash so what happens tonight doesn’t happen again.”</p><p>Peter glanced from Tony to the rest of the team, where they still stood by the windows, listening in. “So… so what do you…?”</p><p>Tony gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze. “We’re gonna be training you, Pete. The full SHIELD-sponsored Avengers deal. We’re gonna teach you how to fight, how to negotiate and de-escalate, how to help yourself when things go wrong—the whole shebang. Natasha’s even gonna teach you reconnaissance techniques, although you will <em>not</em> be going undercover until you’re at least twenty-five. And that’s not negotiable. That’s not May’s rule. That’s mine.”</p><p>Peter held on to Tony’s arm for support. “I… I get to be Spider-Man still?”</p><p>“Yeah, kid.” Tony’s voice was soft and fond. “I know you messed up. And you… you really scared us tonight, pal. But we set you up to fail. We sent you out with nothing but your powers, which we haven’t even taught you to use properly yet. So here’s your second chance. No—not even your second chance. This is… this is the chance you deserved in the first place.”</p><p>Peter sniffed. “I’m—I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to, I’d never mean to, I just—I needed to get the Vulture, and I did, I got him, I stopped him—”</p><p>“Peter. Peter, shh. It’s okay. We’ll talk about it later, alright?”</p><p>Tony pulled Peter back into a hug, his hand cradling the back of Peter’s head.</p><p>“Now let’s get you to the medbay, because if I don’t get written confirmation within the next ten minutes that you’re not dying, I think I’m going to pass out.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Tony, 2019</strong>
</p><p>A banging on the lab windows drew Tony out of his hyperfocused state. He glanced up and smiled fondly at the sight of their resident teenaged menace—or as the public knew him, Spider-Man—clinging to the outside of the windows and waving obnoxiously.</p><p>Tony snorted. “FRIDAY, please open the window for the birthday boy.”</p><p>The window opened with a <em>click</em>, and Peter crawled through. He yanked his mask off and discarded it on the workbench, revealing a bright smile and cheeks flushed with exertion. Knowing the kid, he’d probably foiled a few muggings and bicycle thefts on his way over from Queens, even though they were due to the briefing for tomorrow’s mission with the rest of the Avengers in about ten minutes.</p><p>“Hey, Tony!”</p><p>Tony set down the Widow Bite he had been working on. “You know we have a balcony in the living room, right? Perfect access-point for any airborne Avengers? I use it myself every now and then. And you know what the best part about the balcony is?”</p><p>Peter poked around at the partially gutted tech on Tony’s workbench, a habit he’d acquired that would have annoyed Tony if it were anyone else. “No, what?”</p><p>“The best part is that you don’t get footprints on the outside of my window.”</p><p>Peter scoffed. “You don’t even use these windows anyway. You put shelves in front of most of them! And the minute you come in here you just get, like, tunnel vision. Have you ever looked at the view from in here? I could be hanging by my ankles out there and it would take you a couple days to notice.”</p><p>“That’s not the point, Peter.” Tony couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice.</p><p>“Like, do you even <em>appreciate</em> that you can see the Empire State Building from where you’re sitting? When you’re rich does that kind of thing just stop being cool?”</p><p>“I hate to tell you, Pete, but you’re also rich.”</p><p>Peter screwed up his face. “No? Spider-Man relies on the goodness of New Yorkers’ hearts to buy him dollar pizza.”</p><p>Tony shook his head to himself. Tomorrow, Peter was going to turn eighteen, and he would be acquiring access to a bank account Tony had had prepared for years now. It was part of a veritable lineup of gifts Tony had prepared in celebration of his favorite person in the world becoming an adult. The bank account was the main event—that, and a generous proportion of Stark Industries.</p><p>Tony had mentioned both the bank account and Peter inheriting Stark Industries to the kid before, although Tony could never quite tell if Peter thought he was being serious or not. He’d find out tomorrow that Tony had been dead serious, once they were back from their mission and could actually celebrate Peter’s birthday.</p><p>Speaking of—</p><p>“You sure you’re okay with going on a mission tomorrow? We can stay home if you’d rather. Order pizza, put on a movie. Or whatever else you want. It’s your day. I’m sure Cap, Sam and Natasha will be able to handle themselves out there just fine by themselves.”</p><p>“And Clint.”</p><p>“Yeah, Clint’ll be there too.”</p><p>Peter laughed, then shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Missions are fun. Like, how many people get to say they went on an Avengers mission on their birthday?”</p><p>“Even if it’s Hydra again?”</p><p>“Even if it’s Hydra again.”</p><p>Tony shrugged and put down his tools. “Well, it’s your loss. Personally, my eighteenth birthday was—”</p><p>Peter slapped a hand over his mouth. “Nope, I don’t wanna hear it! I know you. I’m still a child. Do not corrupt my poor, innocent mind. At least not for the next twenty-four hours.”</p><p>Tony pulled Peter’s hand away and gave it a squeeze. “Regrettably, I think you knowing me has already corrupted you.”</p><p>“Well, that’s your fault.”</p><p>
  <em>Don’t I know it.</em>
</p><p>Peter squeezed Tony’s hand back and then let go. “C’mon, let’s go. We’re always late to pre-mission briefings. Steve’s gonna think we’re doing it on purpose to annoy him if we’re late again.”</p><p>“Aren’t we?”</p><p>Peter laughed brightly, one of Tony’s favorite sounds in the entire world, and scooped his mask up off Tony’s workbench. Tony watched him, fondness blossoming behind his sternum, and then they left, the lab falling into darkness behind them.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Peter, 2019</strong>
</p><p>Nausea. Dizziness. Brief flashes of light, of faces, of memories—the Quinjet, the warehouse, the heat of an explosion. <em>Tony</em>. And then the pain.</p><p>The never-ending pain. Fractures in his bones, sprains in his muscles, burns across his face and shoulders. The scratch of a needle, puncturing the skin inside his elbow again and again and again. Scalpels and knives slicing through his torso and abdomen and the palms of his hands. Bone deep exhaustion where his healing factor had worked overtime for days and days on end. A gnawing in his stomach as days passed with no food. Pain in his wrists, his ankles, and his thighs and chest and neck where he struggled and thrashed. It was too much.</p><p>Voices. Unfamiliar ones, with a foreign accent. And then his own. Peter could hear himself screaming, could hear the way his voice cracked and grew more and more hoarse each time the pain dug hooks into his mind and dragged him back to consciousness.</p><p>Sometimes, the screaming led to a tugging at the IV in his wrist, and then a chill through his veins, and then nothing.</p><p>Most times, however, the disembodied hands that tortured him left him to scream. He’d get a gag to bite down on if he was lucky.</p><p>“<em>Tony</em>.”</p><p>The few times he wasn’t unconscious, or gagged, or screaming in agony, Peter begged. He fought past the throbbing pain throughout his whole body, the drugs that stole the last remnants of his energy, the fear that snatched his breath from his lungs, to weakly, desperately call for help.</p><p>“Tony… please…”</p><p>The voices laughed at that.</p><p>“The Avengers aren’t coming for you, little spider. You’re all ours now.”</p><p>Peter shook his head as best he could with the strap across his throat. Tony would never abandon him. Tony would move mountains and break the laws of physics to make sure Peter was safe.</p><p>“He’ll find me,” he sobbed. “Tony…”</p><p>He trusted Tony. Tony would help him. Peter wished, <em>wished</em> that he could save himself, but he wasn’t strong enough.</p><p>But that didn’t matter. He had Tony.</p><p>The voices gloated. “Tony Stark isn’t looking for you. The Avengers are not looking for you. They believe you are dead, little spider, and they are not coming.”</p><p>No. They had to be looking for him. Tony would never give up on him.</p><p>But in the brief moments of clarity, Peter never felt a tickling across his wrist. There was no phantom writing scratching its way into his skin to reassure him, to let him know that Tony was out there, somewhere, searching to bring him home.</p><p><em>Tony’s going to find me</em>, Peter whispered to himself, even as everything around him told him otherwise.</p><p>Peter faded in and out of consciousness, sometimes waking to pain, sometimes to stillness. But always to fear, to straps holding him down to a cold metal table, to yet another day where the Avengers hadn’t yet found him.</p><p>Until one day, everything changed.</p><p>Peter woke to neither torture nor stillness. Instead, an alarm sliced through his eardrums like a knife, pain shooting through his ears and gathering across his forehead. He groaned and struggled against his restraints, but even if he hadn’t been tied down, his limbs were weakened by drugs, a lack of food, and his burnout from his healing factor. He couldn’t move. He could barely even open his eyes.</p><p>Faint sounds reached him from beneath the blaring alarm, too faint for Peter to make them out. But they almost—he didn’t dare hope, but—they almost sounded like—</p><p>The door to Peter’s prison was kicked open with a <em>crash</em>.</p><p>A long moment where the alarms were the only sound, and then—</p><p>“Peter!”</p><p>Steve. Steve, <em>Steve</em>, that was Steve—that was—</p><p>A hand on Peter’s shoulder, but it was gentle. It didn’t try to hurt him.</p><p>“Oh my God…” The hand shook him slightly, then moved up to brush Peter’s hair away from his eyes. “Peter? It’s Steve.”</p><p>Peter wished he had the energy to speak, to lean into the friendly touch, to just let Steve know he was okay, but he couldn’t move.</p><p>Two fingers pressed into Peter’s pulse point in his neck, followed by a sigh of relief. A gentle brush of a hand over Peter’s cheekbone, comforting, before the hand moved to free him from the straps holding him down.</p><p>“It’s alright, kid. I’ve got you.” When Steve next spoke, it wasn’t directed at Peter. “I’ve got him. I—I’ve got him, but he’s in bad shape. I’m gonna need an assist to get him out of here.”</p><p>The last of the straps broke free, then the warm, gentle touch disappeared. If he could move, Peter would have cried out at being abandoned, but within moments, the touch returned. Something in a rough, scratchy fabric was wrapped around his shoulders—he hadn’t even realized he’d been shivering—and then he was lifted from the table by strong arms and cradled close against a warm chest.</p><p>In his delirious state, it was the scent of the person’s cologne that bled through and made sense. <em>Safe</em>.</p><p>Steve took off running, jostling Peter. Alarms blared around him even more loudly now, and flashing lights assaulted his senses even through his closed eyes.</p><p>Even though Peter was certain he was safe, trusted that this was safe—he wanted to know for sure. He wanted to see it.</p><p>So even though it hurt, and even though it aggravated the pounding in his head and caused nausea to rise in his throat, Peter forced his eyes open a crack. Red lights illuminated Steve’s tense face above him and cast dark shadows where his jaw was clenched. He wasn’t looking at Peter—his face was set in concentration and his eyes alert as he scanned their rapidly changing surroundings. His shield, where it was strapped to his arm, was carefully positioned to keep Peter’s head and torso protected.</p><p>Safe. He was <em>safe</em>. The Avengers had found him—they hadn’t given up on him. Peter’s captors had lied.</p><p>Peter relaxed into Steve’s secure hold. His eyes fell shut again, and when darkness called to him, he didn’t bother to resist. The darkness wasn’t scary when his team was here to protect him until he found the light once more.</p><p>Then, in the distance, came the faint sound of repulsors.</p><p><em>Tony</em>…</p><p>The repulsors grew louder, and Peter fought to stay conscious just a minute longer. Tony was coming, Tony had found him, he needed to fight the darkness long enough to see Tony—</p><p>A loud clank nearby, and the whirring of a helmet receding, and then—</p><p>“Shit, Cap.”</p><p>That… wasn’t Tony’s voice.</p><p>“Is he…”</p><p>That was Rhodey. Where… where was Tony?</p><p>The grip on Peter tightened slightly. “He’s alive. I’ve got him. But we need to get him to the Quinjet, now. He needs medical attention. Think you can take care of any hostiles for me?”</p><p>Rhodey’s voice was grim. “With pleasure.”</p><p>Why wasn’t Tony here?</p><p>The darkness called his name, stronger than before. Peter’s precarious grip on consciousness was beginning to slip.</p><p>A hand on his forehead, this one cool and metallic.</p><p>“You just hang in there, okay, kid? We’re gonna get you home to Tony.”</p><p>And Peter let the darkness pull him under, safe under the assurance that when he woke, the weeks of hell would be over and Tony would finally, finally be at his side.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh no a cliffhanger! But do not worry! I do still intend to write an actual sequel for this fic. I've started writing part of it already, and it'll start in the first few days following Peter's rescue from hydra and will feature plenty of Peter and Tony fluff (at least at the beginning...). I can't really promise when that'll be out though because I honestly don't know, I'm having a little trouble deciding where exactly I want to take it and what length I wanna aim for but it's on my list! If it sounds like something you'd be interested in make sure you subscribe to the series so you don't miss it when I do post it.</p><p>And anyway, thank you so much for reading! I was pleasantly surprised by how many people were actually interested in reading this, so if you made it this far, thank you for being the best! Hope you have a great day!</p><p><a href="https://opal-earrings.tumblr.com/">My Tumblr</a> if you wanna chat &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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